


Two Birthday Ficlets

by akire_yta



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen, giftfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I believe the world timezones have rotated around far enough for me to declare it time to yell <b>Happy Birthday <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"><a href="http://cedara.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://cedara.livejournal.com/"><b>cedara</b></a></span></b>  *smooch*</p><p>Hope you have a fantastic day!  Here:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Birthday Ficlets

_Like Peter Pan In A Way_

He wasn’t like the other children. Serious and too silent, they shunned him in their games. He didn’t mind, not really. Locked inside his New York aerie, he lay on his stomach, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on the page in front of him. Under his furious scribbling, a vaguely familiar shape was emerging. It was hard, there was so much he wanted to capture, but he knew he had to persevere. He had to remember this.

He _had_ to.

He pushed the blue crayon into the page, violent swathes of colour the only fitting backdrop to the figures on the page, hovering above the buildings and the black-grey streets he had merely sketched in, unimportant except as landmarks.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He pushed himself up off the floor and thrust the wrinkled page at her. “You drew this? What is it?”

Even at five, he could tell the words had a rote quality, but he had to tell her, had to make her understanding. “We’re flying.”

“That’s you?”

He nodded. “It’s me,” he said, stubby toddler finger poking the higher figure. “And that’s Peter,” he said as his finger dropped to the lower figure. “He’s not as good at flying as I am.”

His mother laughed, her eyes not on him but on the crib just visible through the door to the other room across the hall. “Someone’s been watching Peter Pan too much, I think.”

Nathan shrugged. “No, that’s us.” But his mother barely heard him, Peter’s infant whimpers summoning her instantly to his side. He looked down at the piece of paper she had thrust unceremonially back at him. In his mind, he could see Peter and himself flying, free of everything and everyone, but not as children.

He frowned, lower lip quivering in frustration, and scrunched up the paper. It made no sound as it hit the far wall. If he tried to explain that to his mother, he knew she wouldn’t believe him. Better to keep it a secret, something only he and Peter would share. They would grow up, like Peter Pan never did, and then they would fly.

But whilst they did grow up, Nathan forgot all about flying. Forgot all about escaping with Peter high above the streets, and instead let himself be tied to the ground, with school and work and more mundane dreams of what his life would be. He never spoke to anyone about what he felt happen to him the night of his accident, and instead worked even harder at forgetting until the sight of his brother hovering on a rooftop brought it all back again, terrifying and real.

And ten floors below, in an empty hospital bed, a mother found another sketch of her children in the air and wondered what it could mean.

 

_Catoptric_

Niki awoke with a start, her momentary confusion blossoming into full-blown panic as she realized she was strapped to the bed, heavy canvas-lined manacles circling wrists and ankles.

“Hey? HEY! What’s going on? Who are you?” Two male figures moved closer, looking down at her without seeing _her_. She glared up balefully, and saw her own reflection in the older man’s glasses.

“Get what we need, then strip her clean.” Glasses turned and walked away, heedless to Niki’s shout.

She fell back into silence as the second man stepped up to her bedside. Looking into his eyes was like looking into the ocean — empty and depthless and completely without care for her and what it could do to her.

She braced herself for whatever onslaught was about to begin, but still she flinched when his cool, dry fingertips brushed lightly against her bare arms. Then he wasn’t out there – he was inside, with her.

Niki opened her mouth, but couldn’t even draw enough breath to scream.

‘Don’t struggle,’ his voice whispered around her mind. ‘When you wake up, you won’t even remember I was here.’

He was flicking through her memories, of her life, of stripping, of her friends and family. He paused, and Micah’s face bloomed in her mind’s eye.

“Don’t you dare…” she gasped out.

‘Relax,’ the voice crooned gently, like that she used to when Micah was fretful or upset. A perfect reflection of her own tone.

She breathed in and out, eyes widening as the options opened back out before her.

‘Niki?’ It was the first time anyone here had said her name, had any idea who she was.

They had no idea.

“You’re a mirror,” Niki said out loud. Inside her head, she felt the imagery settle with her invader.

‘Yes. A mirror.’ He seemed pleased.

Niki closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her lips curled back, showing her teeth. “I’m _good_ with mirrors.”

The mirror-man started to scream.  



End file.
